In The Dark

Three: On The Hunt

On The Hunt

"What? What do you mean twelve?"

Jack looked at me and raised a brow in enquiry. "You didn't know?" he questioned me. I slowly shook my head, keeping my eyes focused on his. "There was a con on this ship before we landed," he leaned in and whispered, as if not to draw attention from the others. I tilted my head to the side in attentiveness. "Maybe you all counted wrong. He could have been left in the rubble," I suggested—noting an obvious possibility. Jack chuckled, shaking his head. "Not likely. We've seen the pod he was locked in. Not a scratch on it. Door's wide open," he said, and a look of worry crossed my face. "The impact loosened the bolts enough to let him out," Jack said in awe, his eyes wide with fascination—which worried me a bit, actually. I started thinking hard about it, trying to picture what the criminal looked like. All kinds of images ran through my head, and not one of them didn't make my skin crawl.

"Wanna go check it out?" I heard, throwing me from my train of thought. My eyes grew wide once more as I looked at him in shock—a devilish smile on his face. "Are you insane?" I asked, keeping my voice to a low hiss. His smile grew ever wider, his eyes never leaving mine. "Maybe....." He admitted, "So? You down?" He nearly shuttered with excitement. I glanced down at my leg, half expecting a light bulb to appear above my head.

"I can't," I looked up at him and waited for the disappointment to surface on his features, but the smile remained. "Oh, right, that," he chuckled, pointing at my leg, "No worries, I'll carry you!" he beamed at me, persistent to the end. I groaned internally as he stood up and helped me do the same.

*

It took a little longer for us to get to where we were headed, considering my near useless leg. I had a sure feeling that it was somewhat difficult for Jack to be supporting me all the way there (considering he was only my size—probably smaller), but he didn't complain once. He was all too enthusiastic to take a look at the unscathed glass cell that awaited us towards the front of the ship's remains. So he kept on—carrying me along just as Zeke did. When we arrived at the pod, it was just as he said. Kept and intact.

There were restraints on the inside—for both hands and feet. It was evident that this convict was not a force to be reckoned with. I began to get nervous, and spoke to Jack without removing my eyes from the containment cage, as they were trained to it in dread.

"....Jack...?" I asked softly. He gave a noise of acknowledgement—his eyes were just as focused on the scene but for a completely different, less terrified reason. I gulped and continued with my interrogation. "...W-what did he do?" I asked, almost afraid of receiving an answer. I looked at him this time, but he kept his eyes on his prize—beaming with delight.

"Oh, escaped a few slams, cut a few throats, hijacked some militia vessels—no biggie," my eyes returned to the confine, wider than before—now I was sure that this boy was insane. "No biggie," I said under my breath, but it seemed he heard. "Huh?" he asked, his voice chipper. "Nothing," I stared one last time at the glass shell and urged Jack to turn us around. "Let's head back."

*

When we got back to the main room, everything was in an uproar. There were people arguing, some turning to panic, pacing and praying. Carolyn came over to us as soon as she noticed our return. She looked worried—her eyes blown like mine had been.

"Don't you know better than to wander off, especially in situations like this?!" She grabbed Jack's arm gently and let him walk me back over to my chair before pulling him off to the side into what looked like a lecture. I was too busy watching I didn't see Shazza stoop down beside me.

"You alright, love?" I nearly spit out my heart when her sudden words came to my ears, and when I looked at her, her hands were held up in a defensive manner—as if she didn't want me to strike her. "Easy," she eyed me carefully, trying to determine if I was one to attack on impulse. The ghostly pale frightened look I had on my face must've assured her otherwise. "Where'd you and that yahoo run off to?" she asked, "We'd started to worry that somethin'd caught your hind-ends," she watched me as I turned and looked towards the hallway entrance absentmindedly, and when I turned back she seemed to know exactly where we had gone.

"Did that little bugger pull you down there?" She asked, a serious look in her eyes. She seemed a bit angry—like a mother hen whose chick was led to the chopping block. I didn't want to give Jack up, as he seemed to be in a bit of a situation at the moment, and a sudden announcement from Johns saved me from doing so.

"Alright, I need everyone to get together. We need to look for water, food maybe. This planet's bound to have had visitors before us," He glanced over at Carolyn, who seemed to have stopped nagging at Jack and began scowling at the blue-eyed cop. Not that he cared.

"We leave now. Can't be many more hours 'til sundown."

*

Soon, we were out into the sunbaked sand and blistering heat. Paris directed us to a sand-cat we could take—to save us energy that would diminish rapidly if we walked. We rode for hours, and still the planet's three suns didn't look as if they would ever leave their place in the sky. Jack and I managed to sit to the front where Johns and Zeke were, groaning at our transport's sluggish pace. Shazza informed us that the old hunk of metal could only go so fast. We tried to keep sane by sitting close to the cop and the settler—resting behind them in the shade of their shadows to keep cool. It worked for a while—no burning heat beaming on our faces and no harsh light glinting in our eyes, until something in the officer's hand caught my eye.

"What is that?!" I panicked when I saw it. It was a long, wide piece of metal—maybe a half inch thick—that had complex fastenings on the sides. A restraint. So it was true—there was a murderer hiding somewhere out there in the sand. Johns looked at me sideways and smirked. "Why? You afraid of a big bad wolf?" he said teasingly. I glared at him.

"If the wolf is an escaped murderer, then I think I have a right to be," I snapped at him. He kept quiet, but still had that mocking smirk on his lips. We went back to our silent drive—riding a few hours more until coming to a path that took us to an abandoned camp.

When we stopped, each and every one of us ran to find accommodations under the many tarps and roofs that we had been graced to find above our heads.

*

We all found a water filter/fountainhead and drank—some of us wanting to stand under its spray for days. But as expected, push came to shove and each of us only had a few mouthfuls by the time the water ran low. Still, we searched for anything and everything we could find.

*

'Found you,' he thought. He could smell it, stronger than ever now—the sugary aroma filling his nose again. He watched them scurry around like ants below as he sat perched on a sand ledge above their heads, trying to find anything to use against the harsh conditions of this planet. He scoffed. 'Running around with their tails between their legs.' He sighed and stood. He'd have to take a whiff from a closer distance sooner or later.

*

"Johns, come look at this."

I watched, leaning against the wall as Carolyn called Johns over to look at some kind of old calendar, or something of the like. Reluctantly, he obeyed—grumbling to himself the whole way. I was interested in the contraption to say the least, but a tiny tap on my shoulder interrupted me from the theories floating around in my head.

Jack stood next to me and nodded his head towards the doorframe. 'Boring,' he mouthed, and I rolled my eyes. He did the same, but smirked and came to pull me away with him anyways. Out the door we went, off to explore some other random cabin around the site. He found interest in one that seemed to be a sort of sleeping quarters. It was dark for the most part—we couldn't see very well in this particular hut. But when our eyes were well adjusted, sure enough, we noted that the beds were still laying atop the metal cots they were made for.

Jack sat me down on one so I could rest my leg, and—albeit dusty—it was quite comfortable. As soon as he could he ran and jumped onto one, gasping but laughing when the cot gave out under such little weight, sending the bed—with him on it—to the sandy floor. I laughed along with him, having to pull myself to sit upright with the bed post so I could breathe—I was sure my face was pink from the exertion of my lungs.

There was too much commotion for me to feel the more ominous presence that fell over the room. But it didn't take me long to notice. The others must have heard my scream from the far side of the camp, because the speed at which they came through the door to the cabin was inhuman. Johns sped in and held up a gun—Zeke and Imam following closely behind. If it wasn't for my heavy breathing and startled body, I would have cringed at the disgust on Johns' face.

"You didn't dress her wound right, nomad."